Of Peaches and Feathers
by Lady Shadow Cassandra
Summary: She is the Queen of France. She is a woman. She craves for a child. (A look into a few months in the life of Anne of Austria.) [Originally posted on AO3 on March 12th, 2014.]


_(Originally posted on AO3 on March 12, 2014. Crossposted here due to the latest events at the Ao3 board.)_

 _ **Historical note:** Anne of Austria suffered from several miscarriages (between two and four according to the historians) before the birth of her first son. She also took time before starting to wear the French fashion, which didn't help with her marriage._

* * *

 **1.**

Once her mother-in-law is gone again, the court is back to its usual mood, full of whispers and sideways glances everywhere. Louis, God bless him, seems even more oblivious than usual, chatting away with the Cardinal and Captain Treville. He is still a bit paler though, and comes to dinner late, which is not his habit. He barely apologizes for it, but chats away, and she is more than happy to answer him. These kind of evenings are the easiest to deal with, and she can almost forget their marriage is still very stilted, over sixteen years later (and still with no child in the nursery). What surprises her, however, is how he becomes a bit more withdrawn when desserts arrive. The conservation comes to an end, and she watches him opening and closing his mouth a few times, obviously making an effort to say _something_. He finally puts down his half-eaten apple and leans towards her, licking his lips, nervous.

"May I come to your bed tonight?"

She hears the sharp intakes of breath from everywhere in the room. Louis isn't usually so forward, and it has been a long time since he last came to her bed. Her dress rustles when she bends forward him, a gracious smile on her lips.

"It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty."

Louis straightens, a relieved smile on his face, and goes back to chatting away. The conversation carries on as if it were a normal occurrence for them - as if they were truly husband and wife in their hearts.

 **2.**

They lie still in bed, the sweat slowly cooling off on their bodies. The deed is done and it wasn't as unpleasant as usual - Louis had been very attentive to the way her body responded tonight. Oh, she would have much preferred for _someone_ else to be in her bed, but she is married to the King of France, and her body isn't hers anymore – at least until the succession is assured. On the other hand, he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, and _that_ is unusual.

"You are now dressing entierely in the French fashion," he finally says, breaking the silence.

She turns her head toward him, wondering where that came from.

"I am indeed," she replies with calm. For once there is no pretense between them, and she doesn't have to smile when she doesn't feel like it.

"This is good," Louis continues, and she can feel her eyebrows rise. "It suits you perfectly well."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she answers after a moment of silence, not believing her ears. A compliment! Now!

He offers her a shy smile, looks at the door of her room - her attendants are waiting on the other side, and turns back to her.

"Shall we try again?" he asks, and the offer is sincere.

Speech definitely leaves her this time, and she can only nod. The evening is full of surprises - and hopefully, the outcome will make everyone happy.

Hopefully.

 **3.**

The King is working in the gardens, taking advantage of the warm weather of the past days. It has been surprisingly sunny in the past few weeks, and the majority of the courtiers are taking strolls around the palace, chatting away and gossiping. Louis - he calls him Louis in the privacy of his thoughts, sometimes, unable to see anyone but the young child he was - doesn't seem to be sharing the general good mood of his court, and has stopped reading official papers a few minutes ago, a frown on his face. The end of his quill is tapping quietly against the parchment, and he waits with patience, observing as the King is opening and closing his mouth.

 _Tap tap tap._

"The Queen…" he starts and then trails off, frown deepening.

 _Tap tap tap._

Ah. Yes. He should have been expecting it, honestly. For once the King had gone willingly to the bed of his wife, and taken twice the time he usually does, so he would be in the mood to talk about her. The court is bristling with excitement, and he can hear the two musketeers standing a few feet away shifting slightly, glancing towards the King.

 _Tap tap tap._

Louis is not to be hastened. Never. He has a clear mind and always takes his time for important matters. The musketeers ( _Porthos_ , his mind supplies - Treville literally took him from the gutter that the Court of Miracles is and offered him a chance at living as an honest man.; more loyal to the musketeers than anything else, but very good at being one; not a problem for now; and _d'Artagnan_ \- made into a musketeer a few days ago, and still glowing with pride over it; excellent swordsman; possibly having an affair with the wife of his lodger; has been used in a ploy a few months ago involving an evasion at the Châtelet; more useful alive and free than otherwise for now) are standing still, but he can feel their glances going from him to the King.

"The Queen has been most pleasing lately," Louis finally declares, putting his quill on the desk. "I shall like to make her a gift."

Understandable. His spies within the Queen's attendants told him that during their private conversation with Marie de Medici, the Queen had shown herself most protective towards her husband. The King is not one to forget it. He nods, feeling the weight of Louis's stare on him.

"Perhaps a necklace," Louis muses along. "Or a ball, perhaps. It has been a long time since we last had one."

"Why not both?" he suggests, slightly tilting his head.

They have lain together twice. _She_ can be rewarded for it - especially if a son comes out of it.

 _Tap tap tap._

"A ball would be a good occasion to show to the whole court the necklace you wish to offer to the Queen," he explains, seeing the King's surprised face.

"Yes. You will have the royal jeweler come to court tomorrow, so that I can speak with him."

He nods, and the King goes back to business. There is no harm in helping to warm the relationship between Louis and his wife - the future of France depends on it.

 **4.**

The ball is a huge success. Musketeers are everywhere on duty, and she can feel Aramis's eyes following her every time she moves, which brings more warmth to her smiles. She has only seen him from afar since the trial of Ninon de Larroque - such a waste of a woman - and regrets it. Louis is mostly tolerable these days, but the court is always the same, filled with her enemies. They won't let her forget she is Spanish, especially without any child…

"Would you like to dance?"

Speaking of the devil - Louis offering to dance with her is almost a miracle from saints. The cardinal is nodding with satisfaction in the background while she rises, her hand on Louis's. Courtiers make way for them, applauding from here and there. There are whispers, even more than usual, and all eyes are on here - and the necklace Louis offered her. It is a fine chain of gold, holding a dark sapphire on which the _fleur de lys_ has been encrusted with gold. A beautiful gift, she had said, thanking the King, and he had answered it was fit for the beautiful Queen of France. If she didn't know him better, she would have thought he was trying to court her - but no, just being kind.

For once.

The dance is too short, and soon they are back to their armchairs, watching the dancing crowd. She catches Aramis's eyes and smiles gently at him. He bows, as any musketeer would.

She takes a peach and looks at the crowd again.

She has had a craving for peaches for a few days.

 **5.**

The Queen is pregnant and the kingdom is rejoicing. The King is overjoyed and has offered the Queen a new, very light, cloak made of peacocks' feathers just this morning. No one wants her to catch a cold, she is just wandering in the royal gardens with the cloak around her shoulders. Everyone looks at her, while the King is entertaining some members of the nobility in the gardens, not far from the palace. The musketeers are around, of course, and two of them have joined the Queen's ladies-in-waiting ( _Aramis_ , the damned one who slept with his own mistress; and _Athos_ , in whom Milady has quite an interest).

This is a beautiful day, and the Queen is strolling around a small lake, chatting with her main lady, the musketeers four feet behind, to allow some kind of privacy. Nothing could possibly go wrong, except when the Queen gasps (or screams? or perhaps it is her lady who screams) and almost falls in the lake, her hands on her belly. She doesn't fall because Aramis catches her just in time. He is carrying her bridal style while almost running to the palace, the ladies following like a flock of birds.

"Good God," Louis whispers.

He turns towards him. He has never seen the King so pale, not even after the impromptu arrival of his mother earlier in the year.

 **6.**

Nobody is to enter the Queen's apartments until the physicians allow it, and they are taking their time (too much, _too much_ ) going out of it. The King is pacing in the corridor and has sent the majority of the courtiers away. Only Treville and a few of his musketeers are still here, the young d'Artagnan holding the hat Aramis lost when carrying the Queen back to the palace. Him and Athos are in the Queen's apartments, barring the way to her chamber, if anyone was fool enough to enter without any authorization.

Treville is whispering to Porthos, their faces somber. He hears talks of peaches, and it's true the Queen has been so fond of them lately…

No.

No one would _dare_.

The doors finally open and one of the physicians looks into the corridor, before calling for the King in a respectful voice. The door doesn't close well behind Louis, and soon they can hear the physicians explanations.

"Her Majesty lost too much blood for it to be a natural miscarriage… The child was in perfect health, neatly formed from what we have seen…"

"We think someone must have poisoned her food…"

The sentence is barely above a whisper, but everyone hears it. He sees Treville frowning even more and whispering a few words to Porthos, who nods and gets d'Artagnan to follow him, the young man giving the hat to his captain. They walk off into the corridor and soon disappear - they are on a mission, and blood will be shed. He knows how musketeers work.

"I will see the Queen now."

Louis's voice, though not very high, is decided. He hears the physicians murmur their respects and the King's footsteps fade away.

 **7.**

The Queen is crying in her bed, curled up under the sheets. He would like nothing more than to be able to comfort her, but the King arrives and he is standing here, avoiding Athos's piercing stare. The ladies-in-waiting are bowing deeply and leave the room, allowing for more privacy.

The King stands on the doorstep, hesitation written all over his body, and finally enters the room. He stops in front of the bed, nicks his lip and slowly walks over to the side where Anne is curled up, to finally sit next to her. He is very hesitant in all his actions, far from his usual (sometimes almost cruel) behavior in public. He puts a hand on the Queen's shoulder and starts stroking it, hesitantly.

"It was not your fault," he finally says after a few moments of silence, the Queen obviously trying to control her tears - though failing. The loss is too great, too recent.

"Do not blame yourself for our loss," he continues, gaining some assurance with each word he can utter. "Although none of our children are yet born, God has shown us we are able to conceive. We are still young, we will have a child."

He falls back into silence, but keeps stroking the Queen's shoulder. Considering how they are in public, it is sometimes difficult to remember they have already lost children, though none was born in due time. The King is more gentle than he would have expected, and his words truly held no reproach. Finally, he can see Anne nod, and try to dry her tears, but the King - and how unexpected it is - stops her and kisses her cheek instead.

"Rest now. I will see you when you are better."

He rises, places the sheets back over the Queen's shoulders with gentle hands, strokes her hair and leaves the room. The ladies-in-waiting waste no time in coming back, and he finally looks back at Athos.

He looks heartbroken too.

 **8.**

The Queen leaves her bed, eventually, thinner than before, the cloak made of peacocks feathers always around her shoulders now, and more silent. The miscarriage is a huge blow for Their Majesties, and the man responsible for it has been found and executed in a very gruesome way (the same way the murderer of the King's father, may he rest in peace, has been executed).

He watches from afar how she comes across Aramis in a corridor, Athos not far behind. Milady is standing right next to him, her dark eyes fixed on the men below them. He would like to know the truth about her and this particular musketeer, but she is holding the truth close to her for now, and there is no point in trying to force her to share it. He will know it, eventually.

"Your intervention spared me the worst," the Queen is saying to Aramis, who is looking at her with a dark, yet respectful expression.

"Yet I couldn't spare Your Majesty this tragic loss," the musketeer answers before averting his eyes.

The Queen takes a sharp intake of breath and he can feel more than hear Milady moving slightly behind his back. Milady has compassion.

The Queen is still talking, but the words are meaningless. What matters are the looks exchanged with the musketeer, and the way she gives him a token of her gratitude - a fine chain of gold with a cross. Aramis takes it, kisses it and bows deeply. He waits a little longer, watching as the Queen offers her hand and the musketeer kisses it, before bowing again and leaving, the other one following him after curtsying too.

The Queen leaves the corridor soon enough, and Milady disappears from behind his back in a rustle of silk.

He will have to keep an eye on this situation.

 **9.**

France still needs an heir. They will have to try again. When the Queen is better.

 **10.**

They are still protecting the kingdom, the King, the Queen. It is their sacred duty. They won't fail at it.


End file.
